The Journal of Parizade
by Card of Spade
Summary: "Of those who are reading, you have my word that everything in this journal will be as true as I have experienced it throughout my adventures." Three children find their mother's writings of her travels and want to know more about her story. About the woman that has shaken the very foundations of the world in her youth. (Set during SnB, OC/?)
1. Mother's Journal

**Note:** This is a rewrite of my OC story, _The Story of the Unguided Bird_ , and is set during Sinbad no Bouken/Adventures of Sinbad.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Magi series. The Magi series is the property of Shinobu Ohtaka (writer) and Shogakukan (publisher), and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

 **Prologue: Mother's Journal**

"Sis! Sis, wake up!"

"C'mon, sis!"

A young girl, asleep on a lush bed of colorful blankets and fluffy pillows, was shaken awake to the whispers of even younger children. With a guttural groan only possible for one of her status and age, the young girl pushed herself to sit up and glare at the intruders.

"What is it you two want?" she demanded none too politely of her intruders. Though she dearly loved her younger siblings, even she could be annoyed by their antics from time to time. In the moonlight, she could see the twins kneeling at her side with wide smiles so similar to their mother's. The two of them were practically mirrors of her, whereas she had taken after her father in appearance.

"Look what we found," the boy excitedly whispered, holding up a thick book bound in strong leather. The sight of it made the young girl straighten her back as she gazed at it curiously. Leather books were starting to gain popularity in the world, but they were usually only reserved for official books like laws and tax records. Leather-bounds were a luxury when made for personal uses, but she knew her mother had no problem affording such.

"What's that supposed to be?" the eldest wondered, slowly reaching out and running her fingertips against the rough surface. Judging by the stretched cracks and discoloration, it was obvious that the book was quite old. This observation only served to make her more curious.

"A journal. Here, read this," the female twin eagerly spoke in a quiet voice, reaching out and opening the book to its first page. The parchment inside was torn and worn around the edges, yet the rest was just fine. A sign of how aged the book was, yet a testament to how well the owner took care of it. The page was full of writing in a particular style that the girl had seen so many times in her short life.

"This is mother's handwriting. Where did you two find this book?" she asked her youngest siblings.

"Earlier, we were in mom's library with her," the boy began.

"She was doing paperwork and we were just running around the shelves," his twin sister continued.

"Then we saw this book. You know, because it looks so different from the rest of the scrolls."

"We got curious and wanted to read it, but mom said we can read it when we're older."

"But we didn't want to wait until we were 'older'! So we went back to get it and now we're here." The eldest looked between the twins in scandalized shock.

"So you two just stole mother's book from her study?!" the young girl nearly shouted, nearly appalled by their actions. The boy tried to shush his older sister as the youngest quickly explained.

"We didn't steal it! We're just…borrowing it. Until we're done reading. We'll return it, we swear," she tried to convince her. The elder sister, after looking between their pleading faces, just sighed in resignation.

"Then why are you coming to me?" she asked them. The twins sheepishly glanced at each other, then down to their lap.

"Well, we skimmed the book earlier…And we couldn't understand some of the words. If we had asked anyone else, they would have told mom, so we came to you," the brother answered. She tried to deny them, but the youngest shoved the book into her lap.

"Just read the first page before you say no. Then you'll see why we want to read it," she proposed. The young girl gave the twins a stern look before shifting in her bed so the whole page was illuminated by the pale moonlight. The twins smiled, but she chose to focus on the words of her mother, reading them in a soft voice.

 _My name is Parizade*. At this point in my life, many titles have been attached to my name. Some have stayed and others have passed, but here, in this journal, I am merely "Parizade". This journal shall be a written account of my journeys since I was a child._

 _This is not the original journal, for I have lost that in a long fire. I've even had many more books after the original, but all lost in various ways. But I recall everything of those days with unquestionable clarity as I have written these words over and over again._

 _This book of mine may not have seen me through all my adventures, but my words definitely have. From the dark dungeons of Ria Venus Island to the war council rooms of Kou. Upon the queen's desk of Artemyra to inside a hut of the Yambala Tribe. Never have I stopped writing. I fear that I may have lost my mind a long time ago had I stopped._

 _Some of the accounts in this journal will be…hard to read. It was certainly hard for me to write them, even after so many times. I won't disregard the pain and suffering I, and many others, have faced in order to make a pretty novel and I refuse to glorify my actions and beliefs, or the actions and beliefs of others, to create propaganda. I have had my fair share of failures and victories and I will tell all in this journal._

 _Of those who are reading, you have my word that everything in this journal will be as true as I have experienced it throughout my adventures._

The young girl slowly closed the journal a faraway look in her pensive expression. The twins looked expectantly at their older sister, waiting to hear her judgement on the matter. Finally, after what seemed forever, she put the book on top of her nightstand and faced her siblings.

"You two go back to your room. In the morning, I'll give this book back to mother and tell her what you've done," she said, a certain finality in her voice. The other two tried to argue, but she held up a hand and they silenced themselves immediately.

"Mother told you that you can read this when you're older and I think she's right. Now, go back to bed you two." Without another word of protest, the twins glumly stood from their sister's bed and quietly left the bedroom with their heads hanging. When they closed the door behind them, the girl gazed at her mother's journal one last time before flopping back down on her bed and going back to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N** – So this is the prologue of the rewrite. In the original, I wasn't planning on having any sort of romance for Parizade. But here, it's now established that she has three kids. So clearly, Parizade got together with someone at some point in her life.

Also, for people interested in the run of this story, as a forewarning, I'm probably going to end up completely rewriting the canon story of _Magi_. This is because Parizade is my original character, a non-canon character, and her presence will really change the canon story because she's the main character of this one.

Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this rewrite and thanks for reading!

* _Parizade_ – Parizade's name comes from Princess Parizade, a character in _The Story of the Speaking Bird_ and _The Story of Two Sisters Who Were Jealous of Their Younger Sister_ , both of which come from _One Thousand and One Nights_.


	2. Friends

**1** **st** **Entry: Friends**

It was nighttime when the young girl flopped down onto her bed with a tired groan. She had just finished an archery lesson with her mother and, as kind and encouraging she was, the powerful woman always pushed her past her limits. Her mother was an incredibly skilled bowman, probably the best in the world, and the young girl strove to be as strong as her.

Once upon her bed, her drained eyes slid over to the leather book that was still on top of her nightstand. Last night, she had told her younger siblings that she was going to return it to mother in the morning, plus telling her that they had stolen it. But something had stopped her, a little prickling feeling in the back of her head.

As the day dragged on, the feeling slowly bloomed to encompass her mind in its entirety. It distracted her from her studies and even her training from time to time. Even when mother asked her what was wrong, she had lied and said that she didn't sleep well the previous night. Now, lying in bed, she could finally identify what the feeling is.

It was curiosity. She was curious.

What had her mother experienced in her adventures? What experiences shaped her into the woman she is today? Who were her friends? How had she become such an integral figure of the world? When and how did she and father meet?

When she was even younger, the young girl used to ask her mother all sorts of questions about the sort of life she had before she was born. But mother always gave answers either too vague or too generic, never one to go into detail. And when she tried asking those always around her mother, even they didn't know too much about her youth, just bits and pieces.

The young girl greatly looked up to her beloved mother and tried to emulate her compelling grace whenever she could. She pushed herself, day after day, in hopes of becoming as great as her. And now, with her mother's journal in her grasp, the young girl felt as if she had the missing pieces of the puzzle.

But was it right to just go ahead and read her diary without mother's knowledge and permission?

Despite her hesitance, the young girl's hands shakily reached out and tightly grasped the leather book. She sat up, placing the book upon her lap, and read the words in a soft whisper.

 **.o0o.o0o.**

 _I was born in Csitephon of the Parthevian Empire to Khosroo_ * _Ashtari, a noble general of Parthevia, and Camelia Ashtari, one of his many wives who, unfortunately, died upon my birthing. Right from birth, I already had a title attached to my name, one that would be relentlessly repeated in the earlier years of my childhood every time I stepped into ballrooms or partook in other costly functions;_

 _Parizade of the House Ashtari, First of Her Name*._

 _The words of our house were "better to die than to be a coward*"._

 _Being an Ashtari, a militaristic family of a militaristic nation, I was expected to be the perfect little soldier. But it seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I would never become what they wanted me to be._

Parizade flinched away from the sword when her instructor swung it at her. Childish jeers and cruel laughter could be heard from the sidelines, causing blue eyes to blur with tears and the girl to sniffle in embarrassment. Her opponent lifted the wooden practice sword and the redhead lifted her own weapon above her head out of instinct in hopes to block the blow. However, she was too slow and the sword met with her wrist, causing Parizade to release her weapon in order to cradle her bruising wrist. More laughter and taunting ensued and the girl fell to her knees, crying out in shame and pain.

"I don't like this! I don't want to keep doing this!" Parizade sobbed out. Her instructor sighed irritably above her before reaching down and harshly yanking back up by her forearm. The girl only wailed louder, especially when the man shoved her wooden sword back into her arms. She let it clatter on the floor, instead lifting both her arms to cover her red face.

"Your father demands that you learn how to wield a sword, Lady Parizade. Now pick it up so we can resume our lesson!" the sword master demanded. He deeply sighed in annoyance again when the little girl made no move to follow his instructions.

"You should just leave her be, Master Rayan," one of the children, her older step-brother Perviz*, scoffed. "There's no way a _coward_ ," he spat out the word like venom, "like her could ever be a warrior. She'll run at the sight of spiders, much less real steel."

"Heard you've even taken a liking to the coward's weapon, little sister. Too scared to face an enemy up close?" her other step-brother, Bahman*, taunted her.

 **.o0o.o0o.**

"What?! Is he talking about the bow? The bow is _not_ a 'coward's weapon'," the young girl cried indignantly, sneering down at the words with a heated glare before she continued with the entry.

 **.o0o.o0o.**

 _Within the confines of our manor, the royal palace, and other noblemen structures, I was known as "Parizade the Coward". I was a sensitive girl, easy to cry over anything and skittish around everyone. Growing up, I much preferred the company of scrolls than the presence of others. My father, and many other old generals, would always gaze at me in disappointment, like I was a mistake, a smear on the family name._

 _Many had found it ironic that I, the only child within Csitephon and perhaps the rest of Parthevia at the time, had been born with hair as red and thick as blood. And yet, I would cry and squirm at even the smallest drop of it. I heard the maids talk about how the sky was raining shooting stars the second I was born, a sign they were sure meant that I was to be something great. But…_

 **.o0o.o0o.**

"The Parthevian Court found my entire existence to be a twisted paradox–" The young girl's door was slammed open, causing her shut the book with a harsh thump. With wide eyes, her gaze slid over to her door, where the twins stood.

"What are you two doing?!" she harshly whispered at them, scared that someone heard their ruckus and was coming to investigate. The younger two ignored her question and instead bounded over to their sister's bed.

"We knew you didn't tell mom after all," her sister excitedly said as she jumped onto the bed.

"So how far did you get?" her brother asked, taking a seat next to his twin.

"How do you two know that I haven't told mother?" the young girl questioned instead.

"Cause mom didn't talk to us and the book wasn't in her library when we were there," the boy shrugged, answering like it was a simple matter.

"Anyway, how far have you gotten?" the younger twin urged, impatiently bouncing on the blankets.

"I…uh…Promise you won't tell mother?"

"As long as you don't tell on us."

"And also read us the book." The young girl pursed her lips at that, turning their proposition several times around in her head.

"…Fine. I'm only at the beginning anyway," she caved in, much to the twins' amusement. They quickly huddled next to her as she continued to read.

 **.o0o.o0o.**

 _There was only one other person within court that understood me. I met him during Princess Serendine's birthday party, which was a ball like any other year. And like any other year, after paying my respects to the First Princess of the Parthevia Empire as etiquette demanded of me, I immediately retreated to the nearest library. I never really got to know the princess while I was still in Parthevia, mostly because she spent all her time with swordplay and her studies while I tried my best to hide away, so I hardly ever saw her._

 _It was there, in that dark library, where I made my first friend._

Parizade, curled up beneath a window, was reading an old scroll under the moonlight, with many more surrounding her. She was absorbed in the fanciful tale spread across the parchment that she hardly heard the sound of the main door slowly creaking open. She did, however, notice the low glow of a candlestick. The little girl froze in fear when she heard heavy footsteps making their way towards her.

"H-hey, wh-who's there?" her voice shook as she called out. The person stops at the sound of her voice.

"Forgive me, I didn't know anyone else was in here." The person's voice was deep, almost rumbling, and smooth. Definitely a man's, and one who sounded undeniably familiar. Cautiously, Parizade stood up and quickly made her to the end of the shelves, towards the light, her slippers slapping against the marble floor.

Peeking around the corner, she saw that the man had yet to leave and was just standing there, as if expecting her to come out. The man was tall with dark green hair and small eyes. Even in the dim light, Parizade caught sight of a single red diamond on a chain, dangling from his right ear. A symbol of his house.

"Lord Barbarossa!" the girl squeaked in surprise, jumping out from behind the shelf and immediately bowing down in a sloppy curtsey. "I didn't know that you would be coming here. I apologize deeply for my lack of recognition and the way I spoke to you."

"That red hair…You must be Lord Khosroo's child, the one they call the 'coward of the family'." Parizade flinched at the name, something which Barbarossa immediately took notice of. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. If I may ask, what are you doing in the library, Lady Parizade? Shouldn't you be out at the party?"

"I've never really been one for parties, milord. I usually just come here after wishing the princess happy birthday." The redhead took a second to think over her words. "N-not that that party isn't fun, milord! It's really beautiful! It's just that I prefer scrolls and all, so–" she tried to backtrack, but the man in front of her just chuckled, casually waving a hand to stop her.

"No need to be afraid of offending me. Those parties aren't my fancy either and I, too, prefer the company of scrolls than men at times like these," Barbarossa explained with a small smile on his face. At the relaxed, friendly expression, Parizade the tension in her shoulders ease up a bit and she offered a shaky smile in return.

"What sort of stories do you like to read, Lady Parizade?" Barbarossa asked her as he walked over to her. Without words, the girl began to walk back to her reading spot, the lieutenant following her to keep up the conversation.

"Anything really," she shrugged. "Before you came, I was just reading a fantasy tale and had other scrolls lying around me. What of you, Lord Barbarossa? What are your favorite subjects?"

"I quite like historical and political texts. I'm sure you find those boring, so I promise not to ramble on too much to myself."

"Oh no, it's quite alright! History and politics are fascinating reads, so please, ramble on."

"Well, it's boring to be the only one talking, so why not talk with me?"

 _And that was how our friendship started. Throughout the night, we read through our own scrolls. I was back in my original place under the window and Barbarossa, surprisingly enough, sat across from me on the floor. I even offered him some snacks that I smuggled out of the party and we took a little break together to eat._

 _He didn't really "ramble on" like I had expected him to. Instead, he asked me some light questions about Parthevian history and the political climate, almost like a pop quiz. Sometimes he would elaborate on my answers and explain a few thing, but overall I think my answers seemed to satisfy him because he would always nod in some way or give me a small smile when I was done speaking._

 _When the party was over, I was sad to that we had to part ways. Barbarossa was a lieutenant of the army and, with the war going on, was no doubt going to leave for the battlefield by tomorrow. The thought of not being able to see him for a while made me quite sad. He was the first person to speak to me as an equal because he wanted to. Before him, everyone around me either spoke down to me or were forced to spoke up to me because of their station._

 _So imagine my, and my half siblings', surprise when Barbarossa came by our manor late in the morning, asking for me._

It was another day of pain and humility for Parizade as she fought and failed in all of her spars. Before the sun was at its highest, the redheaded child was already on the ground, bruised up and dirtied, bawling her eyes out. She tried her hardest like all the times before, she really did, but she lacked the aggression needed to wield a sword.

In the middle of her wails and the mocks and scorns from family, one of the servants came out onto the courtyard, followed by a very distinguishable fellow. Immediately, the taunts died down and Master Rayan sternly stabbed at her arm while loudly trying to shush her. However, she only stopped when she sensed a hand in front of her face. Parizade looked at the hand, then up to find Barbarossa looking down at her with a small smile.

"Lord Barbarossa!" she cried out in surprise, not expecting him to even be in the manor, let alone help her. Still, she gratefully took his hand and let him hoist her up gently.

"Good morning, Lady Parizade. I was hoping to continue our discussion from last night if you don't mind," he kindly greeted her. The child was about to answer, until one of her brothers stepped forward.

"Good morning, Lord Barbarossa," Perviz addressed with a bow as smooth as his words. "We certainly weren't expecting you to come by our home today. To what do we owe this visit?"

"Forgive me for intruding upon your home, Lord Perviz, but I was hoping to speak with Lady Parizade today about last night," the mentioned man answered, his expression blank like his words when he addressed the other man.

"Has our sister done something wrong at the party?" Parizade flinched and looked away from the accusatory tone and glares she received from her siblings. Barbarossa merely held up a hand in a manner to placate their anger.

"No, not at all. In fact, we had a riveting conversation about politics at the party and I merely wished to continue our conversation as we were cut off last time," the lieutenant explained.

"Politics, milord?" Perviz frowned at that. "With the cow–Parizade? Surely me or any of my other siblings can provide more about the topic than she," he tried to convince him. But Barbarossa let his gaze slide through the other relatives with bored eyes.

"No, I don't think any of you can," he boldly declared, challenging Perviz's claim. The two stared each other down, trying to get the other to submit. However, even though it was their family manor, Barbarossa and his family were not to be trifled with and they all knew it.

"Of course, I'm sure Parizade would love to entertain you, milord," Perviz conceded, bitterness lingering in his words.

"Only if she wishes to speak with me," Barbarossa, though he spoke plainly, had a certain bite at the edge of his tone. A warning. When he turned to face Parizade, however, all the tension in his body was gone and he regarded her with an amiable smile.

"Yes, it would be my honor to speak with you, Lord Barbarossa," Parizade quickly said, happy for an excuse to escape the hellish training. Politely bidding her siblings and teacher a farewell, the little girl led the man to a small teahouse in the gardens.

"I hope that you find this a suitable place to speak, milord?" she nervously asked. Barbarossa looked around, assessing the area.

"Yes, this area is perfect. The clearing around the teahouse ensures that no one would be listening in on us," he said, almost absentmindedly.

"If you wish for privacy, we can relocate to the manor," Parizade offered, but Barbarossa waved a hand as he took a seat.

"No, it's quite alright. After all, you've read the stories and I'm sure you know by now that, no matter how fortified or strong your own house may be, the walls will always be as thin as paper." Barbarossa offered the child a conspiratorial smile, as if sharing a deep secret. She was quiet for a moment, staring at the man across from her as she slowly sat down.

"Well then, what exactly did you want to talk about, Lord Barbarossa?" she finally asked. The lieutenant looked amused, a tiny smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

"I did want to talk about our current political climate, but first I want to talk about you." Parizade frowned at that, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"Me? Have I done something wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," the man quickly denied with a shake of his head. "I just wanted to inquire about your family life, if you're okay with that."

"I don't think that my personal life would interest you as much, milord," the girl tried to dissuade him with a small, nervous smile. Though it looked more like a grimace than anything.

"I assure you it is, Lady Parizade. Have your sword lessons always gone that way?" he inquired.

"Well…uhm…" the child looked up at the man's piercing stare. She was tempted to lie, but something told her that he would know instantly if she tried. "It's not as bad as it seemed," she tried to play it off instead.

"The style that your mentor was teaching you was the Heavy-Bladed style, wherein the user heavily relies on brute strength to fight," he noted.

"Yes, it's the form my father and siblings fight with."

"I've seen that style within the army. It's usually only used by the large soldiers with hulking muscles." She nervously fidgeted under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Master Rayan says that I'll gain more muscle the more I train." Barbarossa scoffed at that.

"I'm not a master at swords, but even I can tell that you're not meant for the Heavy-Bladed style from a single glance. Perhaps you're more suited for the Quicksword."

"But it's the style father wants all of us to learn."

"Forgive my words, Lady Parizade, but relying on sheer strength to win any battle is an idiot's tactic, one that your father and siblings depend on far too much. Though, I guess that it's fitting for them," he mumbled the last sentence, looking away in thought. Parizade lips tightened as she caught the underlying meaning of his words.

"But, I suppose you would rather learn the ways of the bow than that of the sword." The redhead looked up at him and he only smiled in kind.

"They call it the 'coward's weapon'…" she mumbled, looking down in her lap in shame.

"Then they are stupid." Parizade peeked up at him through her bangs to find Barbarossa smiling kindly at her. She gave him a shaky smile as she slowly lifted her head up to face him. "You know, some of the bravest men I fought beside were highly skilled bowmen. Smart and deadly, every army needs archers if they hope to win." Parizade's smile grew, hearing his words.

"Do you have a teacher?" he asked, but she shook her head.

"No, I teach myself theory through the manuscripts in the library, but I've never had the chance to put it to practice. Father doesn't want to hire anyone to teach me and I can't get my hand on a bow for my size," she explained shyly.

"Well, it's admirable that you're doing your best to learn despite the circumstances," he complimented. "Why do you wish to take up the bow?" The redhead was silent for a moment, thinking about his question.

"I…I don't really know…" Parizade answered truthfully, looking off to the side in thought. "Whenever I think of wielding a bow, it just…it feels right. I don't get that feeling when I'm holding a sword," she continued, her eyes glazing over as if her soul were leaving her body.

"Yes, I can understand that feeling to an extent. In fact, I–" Barbarossa cut himself off, lifting his gaze over the child's head. The abrupt end to his words caught the little girl's attention and she turned around to see what had caught Barbarossa's. Approaching the tea house was a single servant, quickly walking through the clearing to get to them.

"Pardon the intrusion, milord, milady," he spoke politely, giving them a small bow, "but the family has retired to the dining room for lunch. Will either of you be joining?" Parizade's eyes widened as she realized how much time has passed.

"I'm so sorry, Lord Barbarossa," she hastily apologized, turning around to face him. "I was so caught up in talking about myself that we never got to talk about what you wanted to. I'm terribly sorry for being a poor host." But the man just waved his hand with a smile.

"No need for apologies, Lady Parizade. I had a wonderful time here, nonetheless, and you were excellent company. Though, I'm afraid I have overstayed my welcome, so I shall be taking my leave." Barbarossa stood from his seat with Parizade following not too long after.

"Then at least allow me to walk you out." The girl briefly turned to address the servant. "Please tell my siblings that Lord Barbarossa won't be joining for lunch, but I will come later after I walk him out," she requested of him. The servant bowed, giving his affirmation before walking back in the direction of the manor.

When he left, the two nobles shared small smiles before making their way towards the front exit of the manor.

"Will you be coming back tomorrow, Lord Barbarossa?" Parizade asked, a hesitant, shy sort of excitement dancing along the edge of her words.

"I'm afraid not. I'm needed back at the field, so I'll be leaving tomorrow," he answered with a hint of a sigh.

"Oh, of course," Parizade sounded dejected, but she quickly shook her head to rid her mind of sad thoughts. "I'm surprised that you even had time to come back to the capital, what with everything going on," she lightly commented.

"Well, I'm only a lieutenant. If I were a general like your father, I would still be out there," said Barbarossa.

"Do you want to be a general?" the girl quietly asked, peeking up at him through her bangs.

"My father wants me to be one. But me?...Perhaps, with the way this war is going, it wouldn't even matter," the man answered.

"…Is…Is it really going to get that bad?" Barbarossa took a moment to breathe in deeply and releasing that air slowly.

"That's what always happens in war, isn't it? Always seems to go downhill even past the bitter end," he spoke truthfully. "Tell me, Lady Parizade, what do you know of this war?" The redheaded child blinked, not expecting the question. Nonetheless, she spent a couple of seconds in silence, formulating an answer.

"I've read poems and stories, seen artwork, and heard just about everyone around me glorifying this war and Parthevia. But I hear the servants maids gossip when they think no one's around. They talk about how their sons, fathers, friends, or lovers have been drafted, how everything is raising in price, how they see more and more people on the streets as they make their way back home. Thin walls indeed, Lord Barbarossa," she tried to smile at that, but it came out much more miserable than intended.

"And what do you think or our nation because of it?" he continued to inquire. Parizade's shoulders tensed at the question, her mind whirring for a response. It was practically treason to speak up against the crown and their decisions, a fact she knew despite her young age.

"I, uh…" she floundered for an answer for a moment before clearing her throat and straightening her back to look as sophisticated as she had been taught.

"I think that Parthevia, strong and proud as she is, will win this war and…and restore the empire to even greater heights. After all, our…benevolent king will only ensure the best for this nation," Parizade struggled to get the answer out, trying to sound so sure and confident in her answer. The lieutenant merely smiled back at her, amusement dancing around in his eyes.

"No, I know you don't think that." The man leaned down to whisper for only her ears to hear, "And I don't either." Blue eyes widened in shock at his treasonous words.

"…Why are you telling me this?" she asked quietly.

"Because, Lady Parizade, I think you and I are…quite similar." The pair continued walking to their destination, albeit much slower than before, and Barbarossa held his hands behind his back as he continued to speak.

"As you may well know, I have many acquaintances in the courts of Parthevia and on the field, but hardly any friends. If I tell any of them what I just told you, they won't hesitate to throw me in the dungeons. You know what those noblemen are like; they won't hesitate to bring you down for the smallest of reasons just so they can use your failures as a stepping stone."

"What makes you think that I won't tell someone?"

"Because I like to think of us as friends, Parizade." The child's head whipped around to face him, long red locks flowing wildly behind her. The man just faced her bewilderment with a calm smile of his own.

"…why me?...why would you want to be friends with someone like me?" she asked after some hesitation, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Barbarossa stopped, closing his eyes and softly humming in thought. When he opened them, he looked down at the girl with a soft smile. "It's because I feel like I can trust you for years to come. You're still so young, and yet you understand much more about the world than most of those in court. Instead of a parrot that sings praises of its master left and right, I want an actual human for a friend."

Silence prevailed over the two of them for quite some time. Parizade stared at the man in bewilderment, yet no one could mistake the sliver of cautious hope that glimmered in her sapphire eyes. Barbarossa just smiled, unperturbed by the look on the little girl's face, but he needed to get going.

"Thank you for hearing me out and being a wonderful host to me, Lady Parizade," the mentioned girl twitched at that name, "but I must be getting back now." He gave her a nod of departure before making his way to the front gates. As they were opening, the sound of rushing footsteps caught his attention and he turned around to see the girl right behind him with a look of timid determination.

"I-I don't understand how those servants and maids, men and women, could still hail and glorify this country when their brothers, fathers, friends, or lovers are out there dying or killing others. And for what? Because the court got greedy and wanted a little more coin in their pocket, because the king wanted to be recognized as an emperor? I-I think that this country will be ruined if…if the Dikumenowlz or any of their supporters keep the crown," Parizade spoke quickly, her words almost meshing together in her haste to get them out.

Barbarossa didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at her with an expression that the little girl couldn't understand, making her fidget and squirm with uncertainty. She had just revealed her darkest thoughts to a man who could have her thrown in jail or executed for her treasonous words. Shouldn't he at least say something? Finally, the man did show a reaction in the form of a friendly smile and nod.

"I understand. Thank you for trusting me and telling me this, Parizade."

 _Barbarossa was right; the war was getting worse. He has never come back to the family manor after that because he was always on the field. I understood that it was his duty, but it still saddened me that my first friend was so far away. He didn't send any letters and I figured it was for the best. The people of the court were already in a frenzy, wondering why an esteemed, well-respected person like Barbarossa would visit a little old failure like me. No need to give them anymore material to work on._

 _But, a week after my birthday, something extraordinary happened._

"Lady Parizade," one of the maids woke the little girl from her slumber. She opened her eyes and looked at the maid, yet made no move to leave her warm bed. "There is a messenger with a package for you in the foyer." Intrigued, the girl got up and followed the maid out.

Standing beside the front door was said messenger, who greeted her with a smile and bow. At his feet was a silver chest, almost the size of her own body with flower patterns curling all around it.

"Good morning, milady," the messenger greeted with a good-natured smile.

"Good morning to you too, good sir," Parizade automatically spoke out of etiquette, "What is it you have there?"

"A birthday present, milady. This chest and everything in it is meant for you. The sender was very adamant that it should be you, and only you, who opens this box. And they also sends their apologies that it couldn't arrive any sooner," the man informed.

"Who's the sender?" she breathed out in amazement. When was the last time someone had gone out of their way to gift her something so extravagant? Parizade eventually pulled her gaze away from the chest and to the messenger, finding him holding out an envelope towards her.

"A good friend, milady," he answered with a small smile as she took the envelope. The wax seal was unbroken, a sign that no one had opened it before its sealing, and blank, having no specific house sigil. Feeling around the sealed parchment, Parizade can feel the outline of a small key, which she presumed was for the chest.

"Thank you very much for delivering this. If you're able to, could you please tell the sender that I have received their gift safely?" The messenger promised to pass her message before bowing in farewell and going on his way. The redhead then turned to the servants and requested, "Please take the chest up to my room. I'll open it on my own time after breakfast."

 **.o0o.o0o.**

 _There were several things in the chest. The first were several books of differing topics, from world history and cultures to various political systems. And they weren't scrolls, they were actual bound books. A great rarity in this world._

 _But that wasn't the best part of the present._

 _For on top of the stacks of books was a small bow made of metal, along with a leather quiver filled with silver arrows, and some protective gloves. Beside the bow and arrows were a couple of instructional books on archery. Everything about this gift, from everything inside the chest to its preparation and delivery, definitely cost a fortune._

 _Even without reading the note, I already knew the present was from Barbarossa. After all, no one had ever shown genuine interest in the things I liked and that is exactly what the chest was full of. The letter inside confirmed as much, written in a distinctive penmanship with the man's name signed at the bottom._

"It was one of the greatest presents I have ever received in my life…" the young girl trailed off. She was in shock at how much the single passage had revealed. Her mother was considered weak? She was a born noblewoman of Parthevia?

"Hey, isn't Barbarossa…" the youngest of the twins, unable to find the words to go on, just gestured strangely in an attempt to convey her message. Luckily, her male counterpart understood perfectly and nodded vigorously.

"Yeah. I never knew mom was friends with someone like him," the brother whispered back. That was probably the most surprising of the revelations; someone like their own mother considered a man like Barbarossa her first friend? Just how much of her childhood was inspired by the man?

"Remember, this is mother as a child. She will eventually become the woman who raised us," the young girl sighed out as she quietly closed the book. The revelations were shocking and the child in the journal so far was a far cry from who their mother is, who she will grow to be, but it would be ridiculous to expect that she would be born the same woman and stay the same throughout her life.

"Now, go to bed you two. We'll continue reading this tomorrow." The twins reluctantly bade their sister good night and left the room as the young girl stored the book away in a special drawer. All of them wanted to keep reading on, but it was so late already and they needed sleep. So, with one last longing glance at the place she hid the journal, the young girl wrapped herself up in the blankets and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N** \- I'll admit that I lost some inspiration to continue this story because of summer classes and the continuously halting updates on the Sinbad no Bouken manga (I honestly stopped reading the actual Magi series itself cause I don't know what's going on anymore and it's gotten pretty stupid in my opinion). But now with more free time and a clearer direction of where I want this story to go, hopefully I'll be able to update pretty soon! Can't make any promises though.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading!

* _Khosroo_ , Perviz, Bahman – The names of Parizade's father and older brothers, respectively, in _The Story of the Speaking Bird_ and _The Story of Two Sisters Who Were Jealous of Their Younger Sister_.

* _Parizade of the House Ashtari, First of Her Name_ – Yes, this is based off the introductory titles from _Game of Thrones_. I thought they sound cool (as long as they're this short).

* _"better die than to be a coward"_ – This is the motto of the Royal Gurkha Rifles, a rifle regiment of the British Army.


	3. The Fall of an Empire

**Warnings:** Cursing, some gore, sexual assault (implied attempted rape of a minor)

 **2** **nd** **Entry: The Fall of an Empire**

 _The war was getting worse by the days; male servants were disappearing from the manor as they were being recruited, more people were roaming the streets of the capital in search of their next meal or some shelter for the night, my older half-siblings were riding off into battle. Even the princess herself had been given a legion of men to command in the frontlines and had earned herself the moniker "Venomous Spider Princess of Parthevia" for her specialty in poisons._

 _Because I was still a child, my own life had continued on as "normal". With the majority of my siblings and workers gone, I practically had free reign around the estate. As long as I didn't bother my remaining siblings, they didn't bother me, so win-win for everyone. Even my sword teacher, Rayan, barely looked my way as he focused all his time on training the others to better prepare them for battle._

 _This was good for me as it allowed me to train with my bow without any suspicion. Over the years, Barbarossa had sent more books around the time of my birthday and some update on how he was doing. He was careful to leave out any evidence of what he was doing though, which is understandable. On the other hand, I couldn't send him a thing, not even a single word of gratitude. Over his letters, he assured me that it wasn't necessary, that he understood, but it didn't make me feel better._

 _I didn't see Barbarossa again for a long time._

Parizade looked around the lavish halls in wonderment and awe as she was led through the Pertegomidus* manor. Never before had she been in this estate, but she had received a summons earlier in the week, requesting her presence for lunch. She had an inkling as to why her presence was requested by such an esteemed family, but she didn't want to get her hopes up.

The redheaded child peeked up past her dark bangs and at her escort. It was a tall, dark skin man with stark white hair, two clumps sticking upward like wolf ears. From the books Barbarossa had sent, she had learned that people from the desert nation of Heliohapt were the ones with such striking features.

She wondered what someone from so far south would be doing in a place like Parthevia. She wondered what someone from so far south thinks of a place like Parthevia. The man's green eyes slid to the corner, meeting her gaze with a blank look. The girl gasped and her head whipped down, cheeks darkening in embarrassment.

The two continued making their way through the estate and to the source of where she could hear two voices conversing with one another up ahead. Parizade's ears perked up and she looked up as she recognized one of the voices.

"So in other words, you don't–" the unknown voice cut itself off when she and the Heliohaptan stepped out onto the garden courtyard. The girl resisted the urge to scream out in joy and run to her dear friend's side the moment she saw him, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed. But she had managed to reign in her excitement at the sight of another person; a man of green hair clad in golden armor and a red cape.

"Milord, I have brought your guest," the foreigner informed in a deep voice, bowing at the waist and Parizade hastily went down in a sloppy curtsy. The other man whipped around to face them and the girl finally got a better look at him. It was better to call the "man" a boy for he looked to be only a few years older than herself. But the black spider design on the golden plate above his stomach marked him as a soldier loyal to the princess.

"Junior, we will have to continue this discussion another time. I must see to our guest," Barbarossa dismissed the boy as he stood up and walked over to where the redhead stood.

"Lady Parizade, thank you for accepting my invitation for a meeting. I truly apologize for the last minute calling," the lieutenant smoothly greeted, taking a light bow of his own.

"The pleasure is all mine, Ba-Lord Barbarossa," the girl nearly stumbled over her words, remembering that she was in the company of other people. "If you still have business to attend to, I'll be more than happy to wait until you are through."

"No, we were just finishing up. Lady Parizade, please meet my youngest brother, Dragul. Junior, this is Parizade of House Ashtari," he introduced them to one another, gesturing between them. Parizade's eyes lit up in recognition at the name; she remembered seeing him always by Princess Serendine's side in their younger years.

"Lady Parizade, it's an honor to meet you," said Dragul as he bowed in her direction. He nodded to his brother before excusing himself, but it was clear that the conversation was far from over by his terms if his tense posture and firm frown were any indications.

"Thank you for escorting her here, Memphis. Could you please bring her gift from the storage room?" Barbarossa requested the man, to which he nodded and left in silence.

"Another gift, Lord Barbarossa? You are much too kind," Parizade gasped in astonishment. Instead, said man just smiled at her and gestured for her to follow him as he began walking back to his seat. The blue-eyed child followed and took the seat across from him.

"Perhaps, but I believe that it is something you need. How have you been, Parizade?" The mentioned girl smiled at her name being said without any sort of title attached.

"I've been doing good, for the most part. Most of my siblings have become soldiers for the war while Master Rayan has focused more on them than me. So, I suppose life has been rather quiet and it has given me time to do the things I want," she answered with a smile.

"Like archery?" Barbarossa lightly laughed out.

"Especially archery," she responded in kind. "I've been practicing almost daily for these past few years, carefully following the instructions from the books you've sent me. See? I've more calluses from the string than a sword handle." Parizade lifted her hands, palms upward, and held them in front of her friend for him to see. The lieutenant leaned in and took her tiny hands in his own to observe them further.

"Yes, I can see the impressions of the string along your fingers. Did you not use the gloves?" Barbarossa asked as he pulled back.

"Oh, I did!" the redheaded child quickly answered, not wanting him to think her ungrateful of his presents. "I just thought that it would be best to also learn without any safety equipment too."

"Thorough," he complimented with a single nod. "Do you know why I'm back in Csitephon, Parizade?" The mentioned girl frowned as she thought of the question.

"No, I'm afraid not. Hardly anyone seems to talk about anything other than the war," she slowly shook her head. Barbarossa actually looked surprised at that.

"I'm to be marrying Princess Serendine in about a year or so," he informed her.

"So is that what you and your brother were talking about earlier?"

"Yes, but it's not something you should worry over," he waved her off.

"But to be married in a year?" The small girl frowned at that. "Isn't that too soon? Why not wait until the end of the war?"

"The king is severely ill." Parizade let out a small gasp at the news.

"Why haven't I heard of this before?"

"His condition has been kept under wraps, only known by a select few. Even I just found out about it myself."

"So the kingdom will need a new emperor soon and you're the most eligible person for the role," the child deduced, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Yes, it seems so. I've been temporarily relived of my position. Over this coming year, nobles out in the battlefield will be called back to attend the wedding," the ex-lieutenant sighed out, resting his head against his hand.

"And what will you do, once you're the…emperor?" It was a weird thought, her friend becoming the ruler of a nation.

"End this war immediately," Barbarossa answered, his words strong to convince the girl that they were true.

"Immediately…" Parizade mumbled out, thinking over his declaration. "You're planning on surrendering," she slowly breathed out in realization, staring at the man in wide-eyed shock. To his credit, Barbarossa nodded, sitting up straight in his chair.

"Yes. Parthevia is in decline _because_ of this war, even if we had no reason to start it. If we don't surrender now, I fear that it'll be too late to save this kingdom."

"Not a lot of people will be happy about this decision," she mumbled. She knew that the majority of the court were in favor for continuing the attempted conquering and having to fight against them would be a bloodshed on its own.

"What about you? Are you not happy with my decision?" Barbarossa asked, intently observing her whole self. He was testing her, this she knew, and the girl couldn't help the small smile.

"No, this is the best solution, the first step in healing this country. My family may fight against your decision, but know that I, Parizade of House Ashtari, believe in you and will fight by your side until the end," she declared, returning the same intense look. The two stared at each other for a moment while longer in silence, before Barbarossa let out a relieved smile and relaxed in his chair.

"I'm glad that you're on my side, Parizade," he spoke truthfully. "If you don't mind, I'd like your help with something…" the man trailed off, looking off to the side. If Parizade had to describe his expression, she would say it was something akin to bashfulness, as little as it was.

"Of course, anything," the redheaded girl immediately gave her consent with a nod, urging him to speak. She was rather fascinated by this never-before-seen, shy(ish) Barbarossa.

"Would you like to be one of the ones who would hold up the canopy*?" he asked.

"The canopy? But doesn't Princess Serendine already have her bridal party, or has other females in mind?" No doubt the daughters of noblemen would kill for such a position.

"Not many are that close to the princess. The only women I can think she would invite on her own would be her two handmaidens," Barbarossa mused, lightly scratching his chin in thought.

"Why me? And would Princess Serendine even agree to having me beside her?" Parizade frowned as she further pictured the scenario. "And am I even tall enough to hold it up?" Her friend just laughed at that.

"I'm sorry for suddenly springing this request on to you, but I just wanted a friend beside me one last time before I'm thrown to the wolves. And don't worry about Princess Serendine or your height, I'll make it work out." The melancholic smile on Barbarossa's face made the girl's heart lurch in sympathy.

"Of course, Barbarossa. I already told you that I'll stand beside you and I'm not about to back out on my word," Parizade promised and the smile on her friend's face just turned a little bit more hopeful. The grin on his face widened as his eyes slid to address someone behind her.

"Ah, Memphis, just in time," he greeted the Heliohaptan as he stood from his seat and walked around the girl to get to him. Remembering the reason why the foreigner was gone, Parizade twisted in her chair to see the gift that Barbarossa spoke of. In his hands was a bow, one as beautiful as her own.

There were no intricate designs on it. Instead, it was just plain silver, save for the sapphire the was embedded in the center, as blue as her own eyes. It was much larger too, made for small adult. Barbarossa took it from the man's hands and presented it to his friend as the girl slowly stood from her seat and walked over to them in the same, sedated pace, clearly dumbfounded by the item in his hands.

"I had this made a larger than the recommended size for your height because I have a feeling that you'll still be using your bows for quite some time, war or not." The man carefully watched Parizade's reaction, observing the way her fingertips delicately ran over the length of the weapon and how her eyes scrutinized every part of it.

"It's absolutely beautiful," the redheaded child breathed out in amazement.

"Why not hold it, see if it's to your liking?" he softly asked, extending his arms a bit as a gesture for her to take it. Parizade briefly looked at him, asking with her own eyes if it was okay. But the ex-lieutenant smile grew a wider by a tin margin and he held the bow out closer to her. So without words, she took the bow, testing out the weight and the draw strength.

"Well? How is it?" Barbarossa asked, watching the girl in amusement.

"It's fine craftsmanship, just like the one you gave me all those years back. And even though I can't reach its full potential now because of my height, I'm sure that I'll grow into it. Thank you so much, Barbarossa, everything you've ever given me are the best gifts I've ever received," she spoke sincerely, lowering her arms back down to her side.

"I'm glad. Come," he gestured for her to join his side, which she did so immediately. "Why not try it out for real in the field? Perhaps you can even give me some pointers on how to shoot a bow."

 _The following year was a whirlwind of activity for the capital. Like Barbarossa had said, all the big names in court were coming back for the wedding, despite their positions on the battlefield. Slowly, my family began trickling back into the manor until father was the last one to return._

 _Before I could tell him my role as a canopy holder to him, Barbarossa appeared and done it for me. The man immediately pulled me out of my classes and demanded for me to retake any and all etiquette classes until the day of the wedding so I won't "embarrass the family any further"._

 _During that time, I had heard whispers of a boy named Sinbad who had conquered a dungeon, something that had both Reim and Parthevia fighting for, but to no avail. Until now, that is. Hope was returning to the common people, but the aristocracy cursed his name. Especially after he had gone and humiliated Serendine while deserting the country at the same time._

 _While the story was inspiring in a way, I was mostly worried. I knew that it was Dragul's job to go out and recruit him for said dungeon, but it was apparent that he had failed. I got to see him one last time, right before Barbarossa sent him out again to find the boy. Apparently he was heading north, to the territory of the Imuchakk Tribes. I may not know Dragul well, but I was worried for him. He seemed like a nice guy._

 _And much sooner than I would have thought, it was already the day of the wedding._

Because of her role, Parizade was required to be in the palace courtyard, where the wedding was going to take place, earlier than most others. She should have been with Princess Serendine, but the princess requested some alone time with her two handmaidens. And so, she was made to wait with the other, extra women of the bridal party.

But while the noblewomen excitedly gossiped amongst themselves in low voices, the small girl was beside herself with anxiety and a bit of sympathy. She knew that, even though this was for the benefit of the country, neither Princess Serendine or Barbarossa loved each other. It was just a marriage of convenience. While Barbarossa didn't seem bothered by it at all, she knew that the soon-to-be wife held some trepidation over the whole ordeal.

The wedding wasn't anything like the ones Parizade read in her stories, and that made her a little sad.

As for her nervousness…Well, she couldn't exactly give a concrete explanation for that. While some of it was from the expectations put upon her for the perfect performance, even if her role was relatively easy, the majority rest was something akin to foreboding. Like something was going to happen soon and fast.

But hours passed without the sight of either bride or groom. People were beginning to worry now and the entire courtyard was abuzz. Guests were angrily complaining while the staff were running around, trying to keep things calm with food and drinks. In the meantime, guards were scouring the palace for even a clue as to where the two went.

Eventually, things settled down as Falan, a magician of the palace and one Barbarossa employed himself, stepped up onto the podium to address the crowd.

"Unfortunately, due to certain complications, the wedding will not be today. We will update all of you until further notice," she explained. Angered shouts began rising out of the crowd, but she immediately silenced them with a raised hand. "Princess Serendine and Lord Barbarossa had royal business to attend to last minute, so neither will be able to show. Please return home."

And so the nobles left to their manors, her own family included. Parizade is silent the whole way, wondering what exactly is going on. She knew that neither Barbarossa or Serendine would go back on their engagement, despite the latter having mixed feelings about the whole ordeal. The anxiety in the pit of her stomach grew as the night drew on.

Dinner was a silent affair, everyone still stewing over the events that didn't happen earlier that day. The quietness of the dining hall was only interrupted by the clinks of silverware, but it added to the tenseness of it all. Parizade found that she could hardly stomach anything, intense feelings of foreboding and apprehension exponentially growing with every breath she took. She was about to excuse herself to turn in early, but her father abruptly stood from his seat at the head of the table, startling the rest of the family.

"I've some business to take care of, the rest of you keep eating," he said to them before swiftly disappearing behind the door, closely followed by the servant that brought him the news. The siblings curiously looked at one another, expecting at least one of them to have answers even if it was clear that they were all equally clueless.

"Parizade," Braham called out, bringing all the attention to the girl, "have either Princess Serendine or Lord Barbarossa mentioned anything that could delay the wedding?"

"No, nothing of the sort," she shook her head. Her older half-brother was about to question her again, until several shouts and shrieks resounded throughout the vicinity, from beyond the door their father had gone through. With hardly a thought, the kids shot up from their seat and ran out the dining hall, all worried about their father. All except Parizade, who stayed back, still rooted to her spot in fear.

Khosroo Ashtari is a strong, powerful man, both in court and on the field. Sure, she has heard him yell out in anger or when fighting, but that was a scream. A startled scream, one that bordered on terrified to the girl. Her siblings, most of whom have been hardened and forged by bloodshed, either didn't recognize their father's scream for what it was or were entirely too stupid and brave. But not Parizade, she wanted to live.

However, before she could turn the other way and escape to the safety of her room, a long, thinly arm caught her around the waist and held her tightly. The girl tried to scream, but a bony hand came up and covered her mouth, holding her jaws together. She tried to squirm around, but the person holding her was much too strong.

"Quiet girl, I've orders to bring you back alive!" a man's voice hissed into her ears through a whisper. Blue eyes widened in fear and realization as multiple, furious shouts echoed through the walls, accompanied by the clashing and clanging of sharp metal. The unknown man cursed under his breath as he began dragging the girl backwards, away from the unseen fighting. Still fighting against his hold, Parizade's eyes caught sight of a particular utensil right beside her; a steak knife left behind by one of her siblings.

"Stop struggling, girlie! You won't even have to fi–" the man was cut off when the redheaded child in his arms managed to wriggle one of her own arms free. Before he could stop her, her hands shot out to grab the knife and, as fast as lightning, she swung it back to stab him in the side. He cried out in agony, immediately dropping the girl so he could stop the blood flowing from the gaping wound with his hands.

Terrorized by everything going on, Parizade ignored the man's death glare and dove down towards him, plunging the knife into his throat to silence his howls of pain. Her assailant gurgled on his blood, the white bandages covering the lower half of his face slowly turning a sickening red until it could no longer absorb the substance and thick globs of the stuff oozed through the openings and onto the carpeted floor. He stopped moving not even a second after.

The redheaded child struggles to get back on her feet, the world around her spinning out of control. The once-pristine and opulent dining hall was now a mess of vibrant colors and echoing shouts. Parizade tumbles out of the room and wanders, stumbling towards the general direction of her bedroom. Along the way, she has to drag herself against the rough walls, clutching the stone with bloody, shaking hands to pull herself forward, step by step.

In her mind, the girl couldn't help but think that it was a miracle how no one had caught her yet, despite her unbearably slow pace. But all good things must come to an end eventually. Parizade couldn't react when she catches a flash a silver streak across the edge of her vision and she was suddenly hoisted up into the air, her throat being crushed by an enormous hand.

"Look at this one. A pretty little thing, aren't ya?" a deep voice rumbles close into her ear. Through her tears and dizzying mind, the child can just barely make out the outlines of three soldiers, all crowding around her with one of them holding her up against the wall by her neck.

"She's that redheaded coward of the family, right? I heard about her." The one who says this leans in close and takes a big whiff of her hair. "What beautiful hair. I never would have imagined she would be this pretty…Must be from that _noble blood_ of hers," the soldier cooed, spitting out those two words like they were an insult to life itself. With the way he gently stroked her long locks, Parizade desperately wants to hurl, but is too frightened and shell-shocked to do anything.

"I've always liked pretty things," the third comments, his dark gaze shamelessly roving across her body, particularly lingering on her chest and pelvis, over and over _and over_ again. The terrorized girl begins to wildly claw at the hand around her throat in a desperate attempt to get away.

The man holding her howls in pain as her nails easily tore his skin open and continue to rip out strings and small chunks of his flesh. In the pain, he lets her go and Parizade falls down with a thud. She tries to bolt out of the area as fast as possible, but is immediately grabbed by the neck again and painfully slammed into the ground with such force that air in her lungs rush out of her upon impact. Her head hits against the cold tiles with a sickening _crack_ and her vision swims.

There are hands all over her still, almost unconscious body. Large, callused hands are touching her all over, disgustingly groping and stroking her flesh and impatiently tugging at her robes and accessories. Tears began to fall from her sapphire eyes as she tries to scream out, but only unintelligible gurgling passes through her lips.

"A feisty little thing, ain'cha?" Parizade hears up against her left ear. The one who whispered it is pressing wet, slobbery kisses along the left side of her face. "We're gonna take our time with ya and then we'll bring ya to the barracks so the other boys can have some fun with ya too before we kill ya," he whispers through his spit. In one last, frenzied attempt, the redhead rears her head to the right before slamming it against the man's in a bruising _crunch_.

"You fucking bitch!" he howls out as he jerks away. Parizade tries to push herself away, but her arms and legs are being held down by the others. "I'll fucking kill you!"

Hands were at her throat, squeezing the life out of her with no remorse. Parizade's mouth falls open, her eyes wide with fear and desperation, as saliva dribbled past her lips and onto the floor. She feels her life slipping away as she tries to wiggle an arm out of another soldier's grasp, but to no avail. Her lungs burns for oxygen as her face begins to turn sickeningly pale. The darkness that danced along the edge of her vision starts to fester towards the center now and just when everything goes black, it all stops.

There is no more pressure against her body and there are no more sounds. _Is this it then? Is she finally dead?_

Parizade begins to think so as she feels herself being gently lift into the air, the arms around her securing her back and legs, and held against a soft bosom. There is a hand that is softly combing through her roots, thin and warm, unlike the men from before. She can feel someone pressing tender kisses along the top of her head as they lightly wipe away her tears and saliva with cool fingers. Before she can succumb to her body's call for cold sleep, she hears a motherly voice kindly whisper to her,

"I finally found you, aru."

*Pertegomidus – Because Drakon's real name is ridiculously long, I just used the last name of his and Barbarossa's father and called it a day.

*"[…]hold up the canopy" – In a Persian wedding, a canopy, scarf, or shawl would be held above the bride and groom's heads by female relatives or close friends of the bride. I'm not sure if there's a specific term or word for this role.


	4. Prisoner

**Notes:** The end of the last chapter has been changed and updated, so if you haven't already, please go back to the previous chapter to read up on that before proceeding to read this one.

 **Warnings:** Mention of last chapter's sexual assault

 **3** **rd** **Entry: Prisoner**

When Parizade opens her eyes again, she's greeted to the sight of a canopy of see-through white and hushed tones way off to the side. The bed she lay in was impossibly soft to where it felt like her small body was just continuously sinking into it with the aid of the heavy blankets. The redhead releases a soft, albeit guttural, groan and closes her eyes again to willingly sink back into the mattress. But it seems that her throaty noise caught the attention of the others in the room as the tones immediately cut off, a door is quietly opened and shut, and she feels a side of the bed dip lower.

The person doesn't speak until Parizade opens her eyes and slightly tilts her head to see who is there. Beside her is a gorgeous woman with beautiful auburn hair tied into two loops and shining jade eyes. There was a third, much smaller loop in the middle of her bangs, which framed three dots in a vertical line. But, the most prominent feature on her face was her smile, joyous and revered, as if the young woman had just discovered all the answers she will ever need.

"Good evening, my lady, aru," she warmly greets, her melodic voice hardly above a whisper.

"Wh-who are you?" the blue-eyed child painfully croaks out. The woman's smile vanishes at the sound of her voice, her eyebrows drawing together in worry. She moves out of the girl's vision, but not too fast to elicit any panic, and comes back with a glass of water. Parizade, with the help of the kind woman, gobbles it all down as best she can.

"I'm a magician employed under Barbarossa, aru. My name is Falan, aru," the woman, Falan, answers as she places the glass on a nightstand. It takes Parizade a second, but she eventually recognizes the name as her eyes slightly widen.

"You were the one who called off the wedding yesterday," she speaks in realization.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but that happened three days ago, aru. You've been asleep for the past two days, aru," Falan breaks it to the girl as gently as possible.

"T-two days? Bu-Wha-Ho–" Parizade scrambles for words, her mind jumbling to piece together her fractured memory of the past three days.

"This may be too sudden, but do you remember what had happened when you were last awake, aru?" the magician asks in all seriousness, her words alone cutting the girl off. And it does, freezing her and forcing her to think.

"Th-th-there…screaming…and-and figh…figh-ti-ting…," the little girl's words start to lose all rhythm as events of that night flash through her brain. "A…several so…soldiers there…" her blue eyes glaze over as her mind focuses in on those few minutes. "Touching…ch-choking…" her skin began to burn, as if she could still feel the remnants of those hands. "They tr-tried…tried to remove me…my clo-clothes…" Where was she again? The line between memory and reality begin to blur as Parizade finds herself on the cold ground of that dark hallway, someone squeezing the life out of her as others grope her all over.

But as soon as the horrors appear, they come to a screeching halt when Parizade feels fingertips press against her shoulder. The girl flinches at the contact and looks up to see Falan gazing down at her in worry.

"You don't need to tell me everything, aru. I'm sorry for making you relive it all, aru," the woman sincerely apologizes. The child looks away in shame, instead focusing on the white canopy. A few moments of silence engulfs the bedroom.

"…I passed out as the man was choking me…What happened after that?" Parizade finally asks in a quiet, hesitant voice. If those men had actually…gone through with their intentions, she had a right to know. No matter how awful.

"They never had the chance to anything more than that, aru. I got there and stopped them before they could do more, aru," Falan informs, looking quietly proud of herself.

"What were you doing there at our manor?" the child questions instead. The magician's small smile immediately falls at that and she looks down at her lap. The room seems to grow colder in the silence.

"That's…That's something you're going to have to ask Lord Barbarossa, aru," she admits, almost hesitantly. At the mention of the lord, Falan shoots up to her feet and faces the bedridden girl with a tight smile.

"Why don't I go and tell him that you're awake now, aru?" Before Parizade can protest, Falan flees the room with grace, shutting the door behind her as quietly and quickly as possible. The redhead stares at the door in confusion for a mere second, then relaxes against the bed and drifts off to sleep. If she's being cared for by Barbarossa, then he'll surely come to her to tell her what's been going on.

When Parizade wakes up again, the room is significantly darker than before, the only light source coming from a candle on the nightstand beside her. She turns her head and sees her friend, Barbarossa, sitting on the other side of the stand, legs crossed and intently focused on the scroll on his lap. She shuffles a little, trying to sit up, but the light ruffling of the bedsheets is enough to alert the lieutenant. His head snaps up and he meets her eyes.

"You shouldn't try to move," Barbarossa advices her, his voice rumbling and quiet. He stands up, rolling the scroll in his hands before placing it beside the candle with one hand as the other gently pushes Parizade into the bed.

"Barbarossa," the girl breathes out, a ghost of a smile on her face, which is returned in the same way for a brief moment.

"How are you feeling?" he asks in concern as he pulls his chair up beside the bed and sits back down, now facing her.

"Better than earlier, if I'm to be honest," Parizade nods. She falls silent for a moment, her gaze drifting upward before flickering back to the man. The redhead swallows in anxiousness as she opens her mouth and asks, "I met Lady Falan earlier when I first woke up and she told me that she was the one who saved me. When I asked her what she was doing at my family grounds that night, she told me to ask you instead. So, what happened, Barbarossa?"

The two stare at each other, golden eyes in contemplation and sapphire ones in anticipation. The atmosphere grows tense with every passing second. Parizade can hear the fire of the single candle crackle under the weight of the air, the shadows on her friends face slowly consuming his face. Surprisingly, Barbarossa is the one who gives in first, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees and knitted his hands in front of his mouth.

"As you know, my wedding with Serendine did not happen. She fled the capital on the day of," he starts off. Parizade doesn't say a word or even give any sort of confirmation that she knows or understands, just stares at him expectantly. "This country is falling apart under the current monarch's rule and I cannot allow that. I knew I needed to take matters into my own hands when it was obvious that the wedding was not going to happen."

"So you instated a coup," Parizade breathes out in realization, growing pale in horror and fear. "And it's not just my family you targeted, you also went for those who are absolutely loyal to the crown. The ones who would most likely attempt to take control back." Barbarossa just nods and the redheaded girl can feel her skin grow colder.

"Yes, I was the one who ordered the attack on your house. I had sent someone over to retrieve you before the fighting would start, but it seems that you got caught up in it in the worst way possible. For that, I apologize." Her eyes widened in recognition as she remembered the man who had grabbed her in the dining hall. The one whose life she ended so violently.

"It's okay, I understand why you did what you did. You didn't know about it and reacted accordingly," the lieutenant consoles with a small smile. But that didn't make it any better, did it?

"And why did you want me alive? Am I to be your puppet now?" she asks, a tone of accusation dancing along the edge of her words. Her partner doesn't take any offense at her tone, but instead his smile grows wider by just a tad.

"Of course not. You're intelligent, Parizade, far more than the rest of your family. If I needed a puppet for the Ashtari, one of them would have been a better choice," he shakes his head at that, "No, what I need is a partner. Someone who holds the same ideals as me," Parizade flinches at that, remembering the words she had told him over a year ago, "I need people who will become leaders in the new Parthevian Empire."

"But to restructure and entire governmental system in such short notice and through violent means, people are going to revolt against you. And what about Princess Serendine? I can't imagine that she would sit by idly," she disagreed.

"Those that get in the way of our progress and glory are nothing more than an inferior, filthy species. Ugly and lacking intelligence, I cannot even call them humans," Barbarossa coldly declares, speaking as though he is merely stating the facts. The girl can feel herself tense at the insult.

"I-Inferior species?" Something inside of her stirs against those words, almost like there is a being inside of her stomach, growling and hissing. Her mind suddenly clicks to it.

"Yes. Incompetent, useless. Why must we be ruled over by such trash? Inferior species are just that, an inferior species. Dirty blooded beings that must be put in their place or eliminated," the lieutenant, always so calm and collected, grows harsher and sharper as he continues to speak his truths. Parizade can feel the weight of his words quite literally, pushing herself further into the bed in hopes to get away.

"So join me, Parizade, and help me recreate Parthevia into the greatest empire in the world."

When Parizade woke up again, the room was much brighter than last time, soft sunlight streaming through the thin openings in the curtains. The young girl turns her head and stares at the natural light, a tired and troubled expression upon her face. Barbarossa had left almost immediately after he made his views clear, stating that she needed more rest. And that she needed to make her decision soon.

Even so, it's not like she has any choice in the matter. She's got no house to go to, no employees or knights to turn to, and she's bedridden under Barbarossa's care. The only thing she really has now is the weight of her family name, but as the youngest and cowardly child of the Ashtari, even that wasn't worth much. Parizade knew that and she had a feeling that Barbarossa knew this as well.

If that were the case, then a decision wouldn't be needed. If Barbarossa were a generous man, then she could have said that it's because he really was giving her a choice. But after recent events, it was clear that that wasn't the case at all. No, the power dynamic between them was too unbalanced in his favor that giving her a "choice" in the matter wouldn't mean anything. It was all a power play, a reminder on who's running the show and calling the shots without coming out and saying it. She's basically a–

" –aru? My lady, aru?" Parizade's train of thought comes to a screeching halt when she feels a hand gently press against her shoulder. Her eyes dart to the other side to find Falan standing over her, a look of worry prominent on her face.

"My lady, are you alright?" the magician asks again, her shoulders relaxing a tiny bit now that she's got the girl's attention.

"Yes, I just…I just spoke with Barbarossa last night…" the girl answers, sounding quite exhausted. So many things have happened in such a short span of time, like an unrelenting, ongoing tornado that's sucking the air out of her lungs and leaving her drained.

"So now you know?" Parizade doesn't say anything, but that's more than a confirmation. Silence reigns over the pair for a while, until the redhead turns her head to fully face Falan.

"I'm sorry for last time. I never got the chance to thank you for saving me from those men. So thank you, Lady Falan," she says sincerely, a tired smile on her face.

"I am just a mere court magician to be addressed as such, my lady, aru. Please just call me Falan, aru," says the magician, returning the smile with a small, kind one of her own. But it was brief as a frown of concern takes over and she asks, "How are you feeling, aru?"

"Not as tired, still feeling weak though. I'm also a bit hungry and thirsty, if I'm to be honest."

"…And mentally?" Falan cautiously questions. The redhead glances off to the other side, thinking what the best course of action would be. Seeing her indecision, the woman takes a seat beside her and begins to speak.

"I understand that you don't trust me yet, my lady, so why don't we get to know each other first, aru?" she offers in tentative hope. Parizade stares at her for a moment then gives her a tiny, hesitant nod, to which Falan perks up at.

"Perfect, aru! To celebrate our new friendship, why don't I share something about myself, aru?" The girl's eyes glaze over, the conversation bringing up strange, foreign feelings of nostalgia within her. Why did the magician's words sound so distantly familiar, as if she had heard the same things before? But that's not possible…It couldn't be.

"Hmm…" Falan hums, thinking of what to say. "Well, I'm sure you've noticed how all of my sentences end in 'aru', right? Aru?" The little girl nods. "That's because my mom used to talk like that and I picked it up, aru. But being in my position, I had to drop it, aru."

"But you're using it with me right now," Parizade points out.

"Mmm-hmm. That's because you…" the young woman grows quieter, almost like she's embarrassed about her next words, "…you remind me of someone I once knew and respected, aru. She said it was adorable and would always defend me whenever someone would bully me or call me out for it, aru. She told me that if it's something I enjoyed doing, then I should do it, aru." Parizade listened intently, captivated by Falan's bittersweet nostalgia and intense reverence of her special person.

"How do I remind you of this person?" the girl asks, wanting to know more. "She sounds like a great person."

"Yes, the greatest, aru," Falan nods. "As to how you remind me of her, aru. My lady, do you know about the rukh, aru?" She shakes her and Falan explains, "It is the energy in all of us the moment we are born and in nature itself, aru. As a magician, I am able to see the rukh of others and that in nature, aru. I admit that, when I first saw you at the wedding, I didn't see anything noticeable with your rukh, aru. It wasn't until that night at your manor did I sense the similarities, aru."

"Maybe there are similarities because we're relatives?" Parizade offered, but the magician shook her head.

"No, that's not possible, aru. She's…She's been gone for a very long time, aru," the woman almost whispers out, a look of remorse overtaking her. Parizade tries to speak her apologies and comforts, but Falan waves her off and replaces her frown with a smile instead, albeit a tad melancholic. "It's alright, aru. It happened a long time ago and I am no longer sad about it, so it's all fine, aru."

"…Thank you for sharing your story with me, Falan. I really appreciate it, truly," Parizade wholeheartedly speaks out of gratitude in a soft voice, a content smile on her face.

"You're very welcome, my lady, aru," says the magician happily as she stands. "Please don't feel pressured to share anything with me before you're ready, aru. But if there's anything you would like to say or get off your chest, you can tell me and I swear I won't tell a soul, aru."

"I shall take my leave now, my lady, aru," Falan departs with a small bow, quietly leaving the room. Parizade stares at the closed door for a moment before relaxing her body and gazing up at the white canopy.

So much has happened in such a short amount of time when she was conscious. It feels like someone just repeatedly slammed entire libraries worth of information into her head relentlessly with no rhyme, reason, or pause over the past few days. It leaves her in a state of utter, weary confusion.

But did it really matter if she's already being forced into one direction anyway? It's clear that Barbarossa intends to make her choices for her and with no other plan of her own, wouldn't it be better to just ride it out? And it's not like she'll be alone; Falan promised to be a confidant. Even if she's working for him, she can just play the "nostalgia" card over the court magician to get even a little leeway. Or maybe that's what they want her to think?

Parizade scowls and forcibly closes her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep. For now, she'll just have to keep her head low and wait to see what happens.


End file.
